Karal'e - Part Two
by Michael Ivan
Summary: The Dragonborn's legend continues, and Karal'e gets a much bigger picture of what he is up against. Disclaimer: Same-sex romance subplot.
1. The Ancestral Curse

Darkness. That is all my life has been, and will ever be.

It's great for hiding, obviously. Everybody knows that, be them assassin, thief, or victim. One can get away with just about anything, so long as they are armed with the shadows, and know how to wield them. How else could one suppose I've been so successful?

I brushed my fingers against my pale skin. I was standing in one of my many castle chambers, waiting by a large inscription on the ground. I cast my eyes down at the words. Some strange, ancient language radiated from the center. This is one of two such inscriptions in the castle. The other is useless to me. This, as my associates tell me, is the one that plays a key role in my search for my daughter.

She has what I need to complete my quest, but her clever mother left behind quite the confusing trail. I am on a long road to uncovering it. That is not the only obstacle. This Dragonborn should've been nothing but a thorn in my side, but the thorn is pushing deeper and deeper within me. Once this is all over, I'll be sure to make a rug out of him.

The words began to glow an unplaceable shade of green, or blue. An ocean color. The inscriptions rippled, sending wave after wave towards the center, the waves growing taller and brighter. I almost couldn't look when the orb rose with a brilliant display. A High and Dark Elf fell out from it, dragging... A body?

The Dark Elf saw me. He immediately fell to his knees, bowing his head. The High Elf only scoffed.

I broke the silence. "This is the relic you spoke of? The one that will help me find my daughter?"

"I never said that," the High Elf jabbed. "The Eye is simply a weapon for us to use, should we need it."

"What sort of thing can it do, Ancano?"

The High Elf turned towards the Eye, which was glowing and billowing above the fading inscriptions. "It is capable in unimaginable, but reckless destruction. For that reason, it should be used carefully." He turned back to me. "And only when desperate."

The Dark Elf rose to his feet to speak. "The College has witnessed it's power first-hand, my Lord."

I was unimpressed. "Hmph. Not that they were any threat."

"Quite the contrary," Ancano asserted. "That Dragonborn fool already had his fist up their ass. Unfortunately, we couldn't wipe out every last scrap of misery."

"Yes," the Dark Elf said. "The librarian escaped, and those other two cats. But barely."

I was, again, unimpressed. "They are powerless against us, especially with the Eye of Magnus at our disposal. We should have no problems."

"When _desperate_, Lord Harkon," Ancano reminded me.

"Indeed, Ancano," I sighed. "Let us get organized, shall we?"

* * *

"It was my father," Rodryck said after a bit of persuasion. "He was a werewolf, and a mage. He had been... 'turned' when he was too young to remember what had actually happened."

"So, you're from a _family_ of werwolves?" I asked.

The glow from the library's fireplace flickered upon his face. "Sort of. Yeah."

I hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, but I need to know the people I lead. It's not just tactical. I care about other people's problems and insecurities. "Is there more to this?"

"A bit." He shifted in his seat and looked at the dragon skull above the mantle. "It's like a monster. Odd metaphor, I know, heh... but it's a monster that's been haunting my past."

"You didn't choose it," Ri'saad said, sitting on the base of the fireplace.

"No. My father had been trying to figure out how to turn people into... into werewolves. He tried every new idea on me. I was like a test subject. A five-year-old _test_ subject."

Ri'saad's expression tightened, and he looked down. This is worse than I had imagined.

"I guess, deep down, he wanted to know what had happened to _him_. He had been turned against his will by his own father. He never stopped to think that..." he stopped, choking on his words. "He was repeating history."

"He did to you what his father did to him. Like he was... continuing a cycle."

"Yeah... yeah, he was." He bent forward to pick up his goblet. "As soon as I knew how, I repressed my inner beast, but it kept trying to... break out. So I became really hasty and aggressive." He sighed and looked up at the walls. He had been holding this in for his entire life. It was a wonder how he hadn't imploded. "Anyways, that's it. I'm done."

He rose to his feet and left for the main hall. However, my gaze remained towards where he had been sitting. I wasn't sure how to process the information. I thought _my_ past was terrible. I had lost my entire family, but my father was never monstrous enough to torture his own child. I was _lucky_.

A small creature brushed against my legs. I glanced down, and saw the spectral resident house cat. I turned towards Ri'saad, who was grinning in my direction. He got up to move behind my chair, then leaned against me to drape his arms over my chest.

"How many demons must I carry to finally get everything over with, Ri'saad?"

"This one isn't very wise, love, you know that. Ri'saad knows not what to say."

"I don't think I'll ever get over carrying all of these nightmarish memories. I know it helps Rodryck to open up about this, but knowing how tortured my closest friend has been is just... I don't know how to express it. _All_ of these years, and he never told me. I never knew. I could've helped him."

"You could help him now," Ri'saad said. "It's never too late to make a difference in somebody's life, Karal'e."

The words he breathed by my neck had remained in my head for the rest of the day. My duty is to slay dragons and raid enemy camps. I exist to make a larger difference, but I'm in a great position to make differences in people's individual lives. I'm a celebrity; A lot of people take my word as the truth and trust me with their lives. I wanted to use this to create positive change. I wanted to help people by giving them a better world to live in.

Sometimes, though... I felt like I had already failed.

* * *

The damp cave echoed as I stepped further within. One after another, I lit each torch, walking deeper within the depths of the iron mine.

This place was discovered by Meranden while he was out hunting. It wasn't very far away, and looked as though someone else had carved it. It even had torch sconces left behind. After every step, the air thickened, and my path ahead became cloudier. Usually, my brother handles the mining. As his sister, I decided he could use a break, all recent events considered. These problems had been eating at him for far too long.

I knew this would do nothing to help his rash and aggressive behavior. It ran in the family, like other things. As far as lycanthropy goes, I got lucky, and most people can see that in me because of the calm facade I put up. Even so, family still rubs off. In a lot of ways, I'm just as anxious as my brother... but I tend to keep it sealed inside.

I was angry. I was furious. Fate had thrown me into a life of hard work and a constant fear for my own life, and the lives of my loved ones. How could the Eight be so cruel to the only innocent soul in my family? I tried to kick a boulder and stubbed my toe. I fell backward in pain.

"Serves you right for bottling things up for so long."

That bodiless voice again. I gasped, and threw a stone across the cave.

"Now, come ON, there's no need to be angry," he said with his usual enthusiastic squawk of a voice.

"Figures that, when I finally get some time alone, _you_ come back," I said. I turned around as I spoke, futilely expecting some spectral child to appear. Still nothing. Always nothing.

"I never _leave_, you stupid milk-drinker. I'm always watching!"

"Now that's unsettling," I groaned. I picked my torch up, relit it on the nearby sconce, and continued deeper.

"Ooh! That's a pretty torch!", the spirit gasped. "Where'd ya get it?!"

"Ri'saad carved a unique torch for each of us," I explained, trying to shut it up. "Nothing special. Please, just... get lost."

After that, I didn't hear another sound from it. Thank heavens. As I held the torch up to the next sconce, I could feel the muscle in my hand as it gripped the carvings on the handle. He had crafted the pattern of blowing wind around the handle, spiraling towards the bottom tip. The base for the flame, although pretty rigid in shape, reminded me somewhat of the pattern of clouds.

Karal'e's has a pinecone design at the bottom tip, with lines of beetles leading up to opened flower petals. Of course the Dragonborn would get the most interesting one.

As I reflected on the unique wood patterns, I heard another voice calling my name. It was Meranden. He was sprinting carelessly towards me. He ran straight into me, knocking my torch onto the ground again.

"Helen! Damn it-" he exclaimed, out of breath. "Sorry... Karal'e wants everyone back at the manor."

"Really? Did something happen?"

"Don't know... Probably?" he said. "Anyway, he said it was important."

"All right, fine. Let's go."

I left the iron mine behind me, leaving the torches lit. I could probably delve deeper some other time.

* * *

"Vittoria Vici," I announced once everyone had arrived. "She is getting married in Solitude in a few days. There will be a wedding ceremony, followed by a festival in the market square. It'll be a _very_ high-profile event."

"What you're saying is, we've been invited?" J'zargo asked.

"Sort of. It's never that simple with us." I shifted in my chair at the head of the dining table. I had grown a lot more comfortable with being the Clan leader. It's not easy to lead a clan, a business, and the front of a war. After a while, my duties grew on me. The fact that I was far from alone in it made it easier to handle. "She fears for her life. She thinks the Dark Brotherhood is after her."

"How the Hell does she even _know_ that?" Lydia said. "They're secretive. They'd never give their plans away."

"A group called Penitus Oculatus has been investigating the growth of the Brotherhood. Maybe _they_ found out. Anyway, that's not everything. I think you've figured out by now that _we_ are going to be protecting her. While normal guards would usually be enough for a threat – and they _will_ be her protection during the marriage ceremony itself – these are special circumstances. We have our own gripe with the Brotherhood." The reminder of past events caused a few members to sink in their seats. "This is a chance to follow them home, and give them what they asked for. I say we have no choice but to take it."

"Since she has protection during the ceremony," Ri'saad pointed out. "This one assumes we'll be present at the _festival_, no?"

"Yeah," I replied, my eyes on him. "I've made some... interesting arrangements. I've convinced Vici to make the festival a theme party. Everyone will be in costume. We'll all be dressed as comically shady or dangerous people. That way, any suspicious behavior might be easier for us to slip by."

"Hmph. This ought to be _great_," Lydia remarked with a grin, raising a bottle to her lips.

"Dragon's Blood mead! Freshly produced by the prestigious Clan Dragon-blood!" Ri'saad advertised from beneath his white hood. I have to say, out of all of our covers, Ri'saad's was my favorite. It wasn't really a lover's conflict-of-interest. It was just plain hilarious. He had decided to play the role of a shady merchant who makes unsettling remarks to sell his products. Thankfully, since our mead brand is sold by unaffiliated vendors in most cities, nobody suspected anything. "Khajiit once met a man who went an entire week without Dragon's Blood mead! He got hit by a carriage!"

The wedding had continued without any sign of an attack. Evidently, the idea of a costume party didn't sit well with some local merchants, but Ri'saad was definitely making the most of it. I admired my lover's enthusiasm from a distance, rubbing my fingertips over my purple-painted jaw to hide my wide grin. "Dragon's Blood mead brings your ancestors back from the _dead!_" Ri'saad exclaimed.

Lydia, dressed (conservatively) as a Hagraven, approached. "Isn't this racist?" she asked me.

"Eh. Everyone's a little bit racist," I replied. "Seriously, though. Look at him. It makes a good cover."

"But aren't you worried about harassment?"

"Lydia. _Dragon's-Blood_ mead. The assumptions people will make about him will be enough to ward off any threats that might compromise cover."

"Assumptions about our identity? Then what's the damned point?"

"No, no. Dragon's-Blood mead is sold by a lot of vendors in many cities. Everybody knows where it comes from, but nobody will suspect that it's a Clan member _selling_ it. Even so, for most people, the mere association is enough." I glanced off at the costumed crowds in the plaza. I looked back to Ri'saad, who had his back to me.

_Maybe I could have him wear those tight pants more often..._

I shook myself back to reality and turned to Lydia. "All right, are you going to act like a Hagraven, or abandon your role? Get with the program!"

"You first, Earth Mother."

"It wasn't my idea for a cover. Don't mock me."

"Can't help it." She looked around at the positions of the other Clan members. "Where's Delphine, anyways?"

"She took it upon herself to get Esbern from Riften on her own. She's not expecting much opposition, anyways."

"Well, _that's_ good news. Still wish we could've gone back to that place. Nice people, safe streets, smelled _great_..."

I ignored her remark. Ri'saad's act was just too good. "Nine out of ten Dragon's Blood vendors recommend it to their trading parters," he said. "The last one is _on my list!_"

* * *

Author's Note: Ri'saad is a lot younger in my story than he is in the game, just in case the romance seemed a bit odd to some people.


	2. The Contract

I'm an archer. Ever since my uncle first set a longbow in my hands, I've been an archer. I knew from that moment, with the simple wooden tool in my control, that I was meant to do this.

I just never knew I'd be guarding a modern prophet, but who could expect that?

It's an interesting experience, I guess. Being a member of this clan has already brought me to interesting places. Like the top of a roof in Solitude, looking down at a wedding festival. I was like the eye in the sky. So, I didn't have a costume. Karal'e figured that would just be _too_ strange. It's too bad. I wanted to be a owl.

Owls kick ass.

I looked down at the crowd. As you'd expect, everyone was having a blast. Also as you'd expect, a lot of attention was being paid to the bride, Vittoria. Everyone wanted to talk to her. She talked with the townspeople and laughed at some of the costumes. They were laughing, too, of course. She seemed like a nice lady. I could see why everyone admired her so much.

Across the plaza, Karal'e and Ri'saad were talking to each other. I wasn't sure whose idea it was to put Ri'saad in such an ill-fitting costume, but Karal'e was my first suspect. Nobody really paid any attention to Ri'saad's act. It's too bad. He was hilarious.

Nobody seemed to pay attention to the Dragonborn, either. He's a celebrity, but then again, this wasn't _his_ wedding.

I heard something on the rooftops far to my right. I looked up quickly to see a figure in a black cloak carefully leaning over the edge. The figure had a dagger, and just below her was the bride herself. The assassin was about to go in for the kill.

_Curse my distraction._

The figure's movement was swift, precise, and quick. Nobody could've hoped to stop her in time. She slipped off the ledge and fell right down onto the bride's guard, sinking a dagger into his chest with no sound made at all. All sounds of joy and celebration suddenly ceased. Gasping, halting, and screaming.

Ri'saad pulled Vittoria away. Karal'e confronted the assassin with his mace at the ready. Then, our killer, hunched over the fresh kill, spoke.

"Don't look at _me_." She rose up, removing a vial from the guard's clothes.. "_He_ had the poison."

Most of the crowd remained silently shocked. Ri'saad and Karal'e just looked confused.

"Who sent you?" Karal'e asked her.

"Just a little bird," she casually replied. "I heard a little something about a plot in town. Thought it'd be cool to check it out and, hey, maybe save a life or two."

"That's why _we're _here," Ri'saad asserted.

"Wow." She relaxed her shoulders, looking from Ri'saad to the rest of the Clan. "You know, for a group so big, I'd expect someone with better eyes. He was hiding in plain sight."

Karal'e set his mace back into its holster. He motioned for the assassin to follow him, with Ri'saad and Lydia, into the nearby alley. She sat on a barrel, calmly fiddling with the vial. I looked down from the rooftops.

"All right," said Karal'e, trying to figure out what to say. "How the Hell do you know anything about us!?"

She put on this comical look of shock. "Well, that's a rude thing to ask. Let's start with intros." She removed her hood, revealing her striking red eyes. "My name's Serana. Yours?"

"You already know mine," he replied after a staggered pause. "I'll ask again. Who sent you?"

She leaned back a bit, looking at the walls around her. "I've been working in the Brotherhood for a while now. I'm technically a member, but I'm not there for their goals of pointless contract killing. Their jobs are too easy for me." She hopped down from the barrel and strode up to a small tree growing between the houses. "When I heard they were trying to kill Vici on the order of someone I had a bit of a _history_ with, I decided these assholes needed to be stopped. I was going to ruin their plans, and keep them from ever knowing that their plot was ruined by one of their own. Now, as you can see, I _have_."

"You aren't suspected?", Karal'e asked.

"No. At least, I don't think so. I certainly hope _not_. If I am, then all I have to say to them is this: Good luck catching me."

"You're a shady character," he said, chuckling. "Literally."

"Karal'e?" Ri'saad slowly approached from further back. "She has connections. Perhaps she could be of help to us. What do you think, love?"

"_Love!?_" Her eyes lit up like the Twin Moons as soon as he said it. "Oh, isn't that so _cute!_ The Dragonborn's lover? Oh, that's a romance to write songs about." She rubbed her hands together before leaning against the wall of the shop. "As for joining up with you, we'll have to see about that, but this is definitely an interesting situation. What does the _Dragonborn_ want with the Dark Brotherhood?"

"That's a matter to discuss later." He held out his hand to her with a proud grin. "Welcome to the Clan. I think you'll fit in the family just fine."

She met his gesture with an apprehensive look, and folded her arms. "I'll spare us both the allegiance. I don't trust anybody unconditionally. I can't afford to. Although, we have the means to help each other, and if you can keep your strings unattached..." She then offered her own hand forward, as though she expected him to meet her terms. "...I'd be more than glad to tag along, and answer any questions you have."

"You definitely have skills we lack." He grasped her hand and shook it tightly. "I'll admit, even I was shocked by your show out there."

Serana let out a subtle grin and a shrug. "I aim to please."

* * *

The carriages rolled away from the mountain spine of Haafingar. The babble of calm waters played as the carriage rolled along its shore, taking us turn by turn towards our Clan headquarters. The spring daylight was beginning to dim. Ri'saad's eyes grew weary, and he began to lean just a little bit into me.

"So," Rodryck began. "Where are you from?"

Our new acquaintance sat cross-legged on the bench. She shifted her position a bit as she answered. "I'm from a lot of places."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean I don't know."

He shot a confused look at her. "That isn't what you said at all."

"Ugh." She leaned back against the rickety wood of the carriage. "Sorry if I don't open up to werewolves so easily. I don't trust _anything_ that could tear me in two."

"What? How did you...?", he exclaimed, gripping his forehead.

"Well, you smell like a wet dog, you stare at the moons whenever you see them, and your eyes seem almost hollowed out half the time. It's a simple puzzle." She calmly shut her eyes as she leaned her head back. "I'll bet a guy who can't even read himself won't do a great job reading me. Take a shot. I don't bite."

"Well..." He stared down at his knees. He buckled them a bit as he thought. "You're kind of a dick.'

"Bravo! Nicely done. Not too far off the mark." Her crimson eyes opened again, and focused on him. "I'll spare you the brain pain, wolfie. I'm a _vampire_." She leaned back again, letting out a sigh. "Hmph. I'm sure we'll be the best of friends."

I was already well aware. Those red eyes of hers aren't subtle. It isn't surprising to me in hindsight that a vampire became a piece of the puzzle, though. It already seemed like I was just a public wastebasket for the supernatural. I was a little discomforted by this specific revelation, though. "How can we be sure you're safe?"

"Well, that just hurts. I _said_ I don't bite, and I wasn't lying."

I actually began to reconsider recruiting her. There _were_ a lot of positives. She was quite the snarker, so she'd easily fit in. She had amazing skill with stealth and precision. Those were skills we had been lacking. We needed everything she had to offer. Above her skills, she provided a direct connection to the Brotherhood, and since we needed to find out what their interest was in us, we needed her insight. Then, there were the negatives. She seemed a bit untrustworthy. A human fuse. Maybe I was just thinking with prejudice towards vampirism. In a lot of cases, vampirism chooses a victim to enthrall. It's possible that she never wanted to be a vampire.

Besides, we finally had someone to put Rodryck in his place. That was comforting.

"Okay, fine. I _did_ promise questions and answers. I'm from the vampire family of a really powerful vampire lord. Gods, I hate that bastard."

"What do you hate him for?", I asked.

"Oh, a _lot_ of things. It's quite the story." She explained how she got to where she was. Her father was a powerful vampire lord. She recalls him having some horrible plot that would devastate all of Tamriel, but she was never told what it was. She escaped with her mother, who intended to have her sealed away with an Elder Scroll, but Serana had been kidnapped by the Dawnguard vampire hunters. She easily escaped from them and joined the Dark Brotherhood, knowing her father was connected to them. "I'll admit I wasn't really sure how I would get to him. I just wanted to do something to stop him. Maybe uproot his operations from the base. I don't know."

"We want to do the same thing, Serana," I explained. "He's responsible for a lot more than you know. The Brotherhood made an attempt on my life while I was investigating the Thalmor."

"I was there when the order was called to infiltrate the Embassy party. They'd been planning for that a long time. Manipulating the Blades was just one part of it. In case you were about to ask, the orders didn't come from the Night Mother. They came from my father." As she continued, she smirked. "I suppose an incident like that is enough to warrant revenge."

"That doesn't make sense, though. I'd heard afterward from Helen that the assassins were called upon by the Night Mother." I gazed off into the horizon at the setting sun. Then, I remembered somebody who was in the perfect position to organize such an attack. "The Listener. Malborn. He could _easily_ lie about what the Night Mother says!"

"Never trusted him. Too much second-hand info from somebody I knew nothing about. It has to be him."

"There is more. This one had a run-in," Ri'saad said, his eyes still shut. "As did everyone at the College of Winterhold. He was after Ri'saad." I wrapped my arm across his shoulders and held him close. That nearly destroyed me, thinking that my love was killed. I was convinced that our enemies, whatever name they have, knew that he and I are together. They must have wanted to tear me apart from the inside. It nearly worked.

"You don't have any idea why they're targeting you?"

"No. We didn't attack them first. Our goals don't pose any threat. None that we're aware of." There was clearly a very large picture that I wasn't seeing. It bothered me to be in the dark.

"Maybe they're connected to somebody you _did_."

"I guess that's possible." I still couldn't figure who, though. With what I knew, it had to have been somebody I hadn't met before. The only enemies I had were those who struck first with no justification. Somebody gave the order to kill me. Somebody gave the order to destroy the College. It couldn't have been Malborn, Ancano, or Serana's father. It was a frustrating mystery. "Are you _sure_ there aren't any other details?"

"I'm pretty sure. I don't think my father could be the decision-maker. He was a rambling idiot most of the time."

"A pretty dangerous rambling idiot."

"There are way too many of those."

I looked down at Ri'saad. His head was lying on my shoulder, and his grip on my other one was steadily loosening. The carriage hit a bump. His hand fell right off. With my arm across his back, I pulled him in closer, not wanting him to fall the other way. The moment was too precious to endanger.

"You're cute. The _both_ of you," she said, looking rather weary herself. My grin grew just a bit wider. I leaned my head on top of his and set my mind to rest.


	3. The Rat's Den

Riften. The legendary toilet of Skyrim.

Seriously. I couldn't even tell what that smell was, but urine was my first guess. I wasn't there to... "enjoy" the atmosphere, though. I needed to find Esbern. I just had to get through the Ratways, first, and since I didn't want my day to be boring, I decided to wait until night-time. Show those skeevers what the last living Blade can do. The Thieves think they can keep the old man hidden. I know better.

It was the mid-day, so I had a lot of time to kill. I decided to head for the market. There was a Nord woman selling armor, a kind Argonian selling jewelry from Morrowind, and a few other shopkeepers. I went to the jewelry stand, first.

"Tidings, land-strider. Are you here for my gleaming display of fine jewelry?"

"I'm just looking. They _are_ very nice." I examined an emerald necklace in a locked case. "Have any problem with thieves here?"

"You have _no idea_. My worst incident was when I lost a ring that was easily worth more than 10,000 gold septims. Thankfully, I was lucky enough to get it back."

"How?"

"Brand-Shei apparently took it and tried to give it back, saying he found it in his pocket." He sighed, looking up towards the sky. "He wasn't a bright one. The Jarl made a show of him at the guillotine."

"Maybe he was framed," I suggested, leaning on the kiosk.

"Oh, I highly doubt it. If he was framed, whoever did that to him is probably feeling pretty damned guilty, now."

"Hope so."

I bid the shop-keeper farewell, and moved on through the city. It was surprisingly uneventful that day. Despite the gross environment, it's _usually_ pretty interesting. Illegal activities are lots of fun to watch. I was looking forward to seeing some crimes. I passed by the orphanage, and saw an old lady checking the bushes.

"If you don't get back here right now, you little runt, I'll whip you with a chain! Gods help you, now!" She looked up and saw me watching her. She wasn't startled. "What are you looking at, harpy!?"

"What did you call me!?", I said, taken aback.

"A harpy! Are you too stupid to know what that means?" She hobbled up to me and pointed a lean, wrinkled finger right at my nose. "Get off my property or I'll call guards. Gods help anybody who gets in the way when I need to keep these writhing maggots in line!"

"Holy _shit_, lady!" I stepped back slowly towards the market, hands up in defense.

"That's right, _back off!_" She went back to the bushes, swiping her arms through the branches. "When that Aretino boy gets back, I'll tear his heart out!"

It amazed me that someone who ran an orphanage could be so unpleasant. I mean, sheesh, she has to take care of _children_. Then again, everybody in the city is pretty high-strung. They need to be on their toes to protect themselves from thieves. I'd heard that incidents of thievery had become less frequent recently, but habits formed out of a need for security are hard to break.

Near the orphanage, I saw the Jarl's palace: Mistveil Keep. I had no intention of visiting. I don't negotiate with Stormcloaks. All I needed out of this city was an old man with the location of Sky Haven Temple.

I turned around and gazed up the sky; It was still far from sun-down. It probably would've been better if I'd arrived later. I needed to find a way to kill time. That's a hard goal to reach on a day like this.

* * *

I hate tedious tasks. Everybody thinks that the "ever-pleasant" team healer must love slow, obnoxious chores, but they really don't get it. I had to clear our entire crop of wheat - my _myself_ - and bring it all to the boilery to mix our mead.

Our brew is very special and unique. Otherwise, we wouldn't be making so much money off of it. The ingredients we use are secret, though, and I wouldn't even dare to put it in my journal. What if somebody stole it? I can't take such a risk.

I stood on the upper balcony, looking down at the boilery's compartments. The low bubbling noise is rather calming. The strong smell of mead has grown on me, but when I first started overseeing the mead operations, I almost couldn't stand it. There were six boilers with boxes packed behind them. There were boxes of wheat, some containers of water, sacks of potatoes, and countless red packages of...

Whoops. Almost slipped the secret. Lips sealed!

Anyways, I had just finished turning the boilers on, and pulling those big levers takes some muscle. Luckily, everyone in the Clan works rigorously. As I leaned over the upper balcony railing, I felt a familiar brush of a tail against my leg. Ri'saad's familiar.

It bugs me that he still doesn't have a name. I looked down at him. His whole body glowed blue, and his eyes were a striking white with thin, black pupils. He looked calm for a moment, but then arched his back in a defensive position, hissing. Then I heard it.

"_BEER!_", he shrieked. He was back. Only, this time, he had a body; The floating form of a young Nord boy. I jolted and nearly fell down onto the floor.

"How the...? Wait." I turned to the cat. "You can see him...?" The cat sat down and gave me a satisfied look. "Oh. Wait... You can _understand_ me!? This... is too much..."

"_Who_ can see me!?", he asked as he swung around me. "Oooh! A _kitty!_ What's his name, Helen, huh!?"

"He doesn't _have_ one." I rubbed my forehead with my palm. "I can't _believe_ you won't just go _away_."

"Why would I go away when your life is so _exciting!?_"

"It really isn't, all right? I don't know why you follow me, why you choose the most _random_ times to torment me, but I've had enough!" I jabbed my finger into the little boy's face. "I want you to _go away_, and _never_ come back!"

The small, startled expression curled into a sadistic grin. "He saw that."

"Who did?" I looked down at the door at Meranden. His eyes were widened in shock, and perhaps confusion. He couldn't find a way to respond. Embarrassed, I rushed down the stairs, and left through a rear door.

The cursed little boy didn't follow me out.

* * *

I was in the Ratways of Riften. A trail of blood and bodies lined my path to where I was standing. I played by their game, looting from them and making a warning out of them. It didn't work, but it was an impressive series of fights. Everything was going well... as long as you ignore the fact that I was surrounded by Guild thieves and bound by the wrists.

They led me through the damp, candle-lit passageways. Turn after turn, room after room. Eventually, we reached a large chamber with a bar in the far back. The Ragged Flagon. The meeting-place of the Riften thieves. The air was humid and stuffy, and the floor was wet. They led me to a table by the bar and sat me down. Across the table, a bald Breton man took his place. He leaned in close and asked me, "Who are you?"

"I'm from the Dragon-blood Clan. I'm not going to tell you my name." I figured there was no reason to lie.

He leaned back in his chair and took a breath. "You're not a fair player, are you? Under any other circumstance, you'd fit _right_ in. My name's Delvin Mallory."

"That's nice. Let me out."

"I'm afraid not. I don't care if you're a clan member. Without a legitimate reason, you're stuck here."

"And you don't think the Clan will come for me?"

"Tell me what you're here for, and we won't need to find out what happens when they _do_." He shifted, leaning forward a bit more. "Do we have a deal?"

I settled back, nodding slowly. "I'm here for Esbern. He's down here, somewhere."

"What do you need with that old man?"

"What does it matter? You know why I'm here. Now, you can let me go."

"Really, now? You expect an honest promise from a _thief?_" He took a deep swig from his bottle of mead. "That's _funny_," he remarked with a grin.

"The end of the world isn't a joke, Delvin. You know who we are. You know what we fight for, and anybody who isn't a dragon is in serious trouble."

"Yes, yes. That includes me. I've figured." He stood up, strode to the back of my chair and cut my wrist bindings. "He's in the Ratways, in an armored room. Now get out of here. You're _annoying_ me."

I rose up from my seat and took my blade back from a stack of boxes nearby. I knew I would only face more trouble in there, especially since I wasn't exactly sure where he was. Esbern's past knowledge of the Blades is critical to our fight. Whatever he had down there could bring us one step closer to crushing the dragons in their fight to subjugate all of Tamriel.

Our purpose is to liberate our future.


	4. A Taste of Death

_The light..._

I hobbled down into the depths of the cave.

_Too bright... Too damned bright..._

Jittering and shaking, barely able to bate my breath, I kept stepping deeper, away from the sun. The greater my need grew, the less I could bear the brightness.

_Need to sit... Need to rest..._

It was incredible, almost scary, what this can do to me. I've only gone two days without a fix. I was already going pale, my veins ready to burst from my skin. I tried to calm myself down by wrapping my arms around me, pulling my legs close. I fell to my side. I couldn't even balance. I didn't even care to figure out which way was up.

_I can't do this. I have to, but... I can't._

Curse my father. Curse his disgusting obsession. Curse him for ruining my life. It's his fault that I felt this way. He gave me this weight to bear for the rest of my life. Most werewolves would have to kill for this, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't take a life if they didn't deserve it. With the last battle being so long ago, this was the only way.

I reached down for the sheath of my dagger.

I couldn't let this hunger live.

* * *

"Dinner's ready!"

Baked potatoes. Roasted meat. Steamed mudcrab legs served with Argonian Bloodwine. A few priceless jugs of Shein. It was truly a feast worthy of such a great leap towards success. Shows of food like this had become surprisingly common. People of the Clan gathered at the table, joined by our new acquaintance, Serana.

The vampire sat at the opposite head of the dining table, across from my usual place in front of the mantle. Ri'saad was already sitting at one side of my chair, with Lydia's sword in her place on the other. By Clan policy, he and Lydia need to be armed at the dinner table. We couldn't be too careful.

J'zargo sat by Lydia, occasionally glancing nervously towards his mentor. On the opposite end, Meranden sat to Serana's left, twisting a vegetable. Delphine's seat was empty, as she was either still in Riften, or on her way back. Helen sat in her stead, and across from her, Rodryck...

Rodryck wasn't there.

It's definitely strange of him to be late for dinner. He's almost always the first one there. I mean, sometimes J'zargo beats him there, but that's a rare occurrence. Before I could ask about him, Lydia joined us with a message from a courier.

She walked up to her place at the table and inspected the letter she held. "Delphine is still in Riften. She's gotten to Esbern, but there's other business to attend to. Apparently, she spoke with Maven Black-Briar." She shrugged briefly. "Could always use a good beer, here. Not a fan of our Clan mead."

"Have you heard from Rodryck?", I asked, ignoring most of her statement.

"Not really. He's either in his room, or out for a walk. I'm sure he's just not feeling well."

"It'd be wrong of me not to check up on him. He must be starving." I started towards the stairs on the left. "I'll be back. Don't wait for me."

I walked up the stairs towards Rodryck's room, creeping slowly as I reached the door. "Hey, killer. You in there?" I nudged the door open. He usually shuts it all of the way, so it was needless to say that he wasn't in there. I walked in out of curiosity. I had never been in his room before.

It was pretty plain. Nothing really personal hanging around, besides what might've been a family blanket on his chair and a shield on the wall. He kept one of his daggers on his bedside table next to candle in case anybody intruded. It was a cheap one, but a member of the Clan knows how to make anything kill.

Something was off about it. It looked stained red. It was as though it had been used a long time ago. He never uses daggers to hunt. Actually, he never hunts with weapons at all. I wasn't sure what to make of this. I needed to find him.

I set out for the woods outside. I didn't hear him. I couldn't hear anybody. Nothing but bugs, birds, and rustling leaves. The typical tune of the evening. I couldn't find him by the brook or the pond, and not in the shop or the brewery. I decided to check the only place left: The mine. If he wasn't there, we had a problem.

I picked my torch up at the shop and lit it. As I entered the cave, the first thing I noticed was the lack of any sound. I decided to continue, anyways, lighting each sconce as I continued deeper. At the fifteenth sconce, I finally heard something shift, and at the twenty-first, I saw him sitting there. I quickened my pace and kneeled down beside him. He didn't look happy, sad, upset, or even sick. His skin looked fine. He just seemed tired, with a look of strange longing.

"What's wrong?", I asked him. "Dinner's all set up there. You're going to miss it."

He didn't reply with words. He simply shrugged and winced a bit.

"Look at me, Rodryck. Something _is_ wrong with you. Are you sick?"

"I'm not ill, Karal'e." He turned to me, staring with hazy, hollow eyes. "But I _am_ sick."

I pulled back a bit, confused. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I'm _sick_. I'm not _right_. I shouldn't expect you to understand."

Those were the last words I had expected to hear him say to me. "Maybe you should _make _me understand. What's with the dagger in your room? What's happening with you?"

He sighed, resigning his stubborn behavior. Slowly, he rose to his feet, and gripped the cuff of his right sleeve. He pulled it back, showing red marks crossing up his arm, like a lace of blood. I wasn't prepared for that. Every response I had for every answer I had expected were gone from my mind. I couldn't begin to think of what to say, but to ask him one question.

"Why?"

He covered his arm again and looked up at me. He didn't even start to stutter when he saw the look I wore on my face. "Blood lust."

Then he left me behind. Cold, alone, and thoughtless, in the depths of the cave.

* * *

This one was glad to see my love return after so long. Granted, it was not a _very_ long time, but when there's food waiting for him to eat, time matters more. Ri'saad was still deciding whether to wait for him to start when he entered through the entryway, and it did not take long to notice that he did _not_ look well. Lydia got up and approached him, in a rare expression of outward concern.

"Where's Rodryck? Is he all right?" After she received no response, she asked another question. "Are _you_ all right, Karal'e?"

He was breathing quickly and heavily, and grimaced at her question. "No," he said, mumbling it at first. Then he yelled it. "_No!_ I am not _all right_. Rodryck is not _all right_. There's way too much going on, I don't how to respond, and... fuck, I can barely even think! I'm going upstairs, I am _not_ eating tonight, and if anybody thinks they're going to come to me with their problems again, they can show themselves out the _goddamned_ door!" This one immediately rose from his seat. Karal'e bound up the right-side stairs, on the verge of tears, muttering to himself, "I'm gonna have another goddamned nightmare..."

This one nearly had to chase him down the hall. We were in front of our door when this one grabbed his shoulder and spun him to face me. "What has gotten _into_ you!? Everybody is confused and worried down there. What happened?"

He could not meet this one's eyes. "Rodryck was in the cave. He was using his dagger to... _cut_ himself."

Ri'saad's softened his grip on his shoulders. "Why would he do that?"

"He's addicted. It's so... fucking _sickening_. You know what I mean, right? His father _did_ that to him." He shook his head and clamped his eyes shut. "He knew what lycanthropy is. He _knew_ what it would do." It nearly hurt this one to think of what his father was responsible for. It was horrible enough to know that he forced lycanthropy upon his own son, but he gave him an addiction. An affliction. A very dangerous one. He thought only for himself, and only sought to cure his own trauma. In the end, he passed it on through his own blood. Nothing like that should ever be forgiven.

"He needs to pay. He will. Perhaps it won't be our doing, but he has it coming."

"I damned well hope he's already dead." He placed his hands on this one's sides and pulled our bodies together. This one moved his hands down his back. "We should go back down there."

"Will Rodryck join us?"

He moved away from Ri'saad, and our eyes met. "I don't know where he went. Probably not. We aren't telling the others."

"No," this one hesitantly replied. "They don't need to know."

This one escorted him back to the main hall. Everybody was asking us for an explanation. This one tried to pass it off as "just nerves", which wasn't a complete lie. This was a problem that couldn't be solved. There was no need for anybody else to know. They would try to confront Rodryck, which was surely the last thing he needed. Every day, his curse comes back to haunt him, reminding him of his traumatic past. His family is one of the most unfortunate ones this one has ever come across.

Thank the Gods his sister was spared.


End file.
